Night Spirits

Part 1

I should have known I would be seasick. I've never been on a boat before, but even riding in a carriage makes me queasy if I don't keep my eyes on the trees outside the window. The deck of the ship is chilly, but I'm out there, clinging to the railing, looking up at the clouds, hoping to god I can keep my dinner inside where it belongs. This trip will have enough humiliations without adding vomiting to the list.

My sister Maria is suffering in private, down below. To her, being seen in this state would be worse punishment than the waves of nausea that roll through us with every rock and sway of the boat. She hates the crew, the jokes they make about us, the looks they give her when she emerges from our room. Our cell. We are half passengers, half cargo, and they will not let us forget it. We must be delivered in a certain physical condition, but psychological scars will be tolerated, I am given to understand.

The sickness will only last the first few days, our mother told us. She made a similar journey in her youth, but for quite different reasons. She was sent away from her ancestral home for what she was. We are being summoned back for it.

The captain of the ship comes to ask after my condition. He is an older, grandfatherly presence, and when he is there, the sailors keep their comments to themselves. Maria appreciates this, but I do not care. They may say what they want. It makes no difference to me if they have lascivious thoughts about me. I can ignore their gestures, their crude allusions to the acts they would perform on me were they given the chance. They will not be given the chance, and if they were, they would find that things did not go as they expected.

The captain is waiting for my response, and I force down the bile in my throat long enough to murmur politely in his direction. 

"It is not so bad." It is a lie, but he is satisfied. It is his job to deliver us. He will be well-paid for it. That is of more interest to him than our comfort, but he is not my enemy right now. I have enough real ones; I have no desire to manufacture them.

The journey will take around two weeks, which gives me some time to make my plans. Maria will be no help. She has a weak spirit; whether this be learned or some kind of inborn defect, I don't know. It has always been true, since we were small. I tried to convince Mother that Maria should not be sent on this journey, but apparently her fear overpowered her love in this particular instance. She did not dare refuse them what they asked, even though Maria will not be much use to them. At home it was mostly Mother who protected her, but now I suppose it will have to be me.

In between the deep breaths that calm my stomach, I survey the crew on the deck. Most are ignoring me now, having learned that their comments do not provoke an amusing reaction. A few still glance at me often, and these I concentrate on. Two are speaking in low voices while casting predatory looks in my direction; it is easy to understand their intentions. Perhaps they are not afraid of the captain, or their urges are simply harder to master than those of the other men. Either way, I will have to kill them.

Another one is turning his eyes toward me more hesitantly, as though he is almost frightened of me. He is young, and I wonder if this is the closest he has ever been to a woman – at least since childhood. Many youths are sent off to work on a ship before they even begin to shave, and it is no environment for a woman, so few are found there. His curiosity can be forgiven, but more than that, perhaps it can be exploited. I will have to remember him.

***

Maria will not touch her dinner. I try to spoon some broth into her mouth, but she presses her lips closed until they are white, and I give up and drink it myself. One of us should have some strength, at least.

She lies back down on her berth, and I set the bucket she has filled outside the door to be emptied. I do not need mine, so I place it next to her bed and stare at her as she moans quietly in her bed. Whatever plan I form, it will have to be enacted later. A show of force is not likely to work with Maria in this state. She will be a hindrance, not a help, until she recovers.

A quiet escape is also impossible, now that we are so far out to sea – Mother made sure of that. A surge of anger bubbles up in my chest and I clench my fists, waiting for it to drain away from me. I am disgusted with her, but I know she acted out of self-preservation and not malice. She is not the enemy, either. 

***

At night the ship is slightly quieter than during the day. The crew still needs to sail, but those who aren't manning posts are down below, sleeping or occupied with cards and whiskey. I drink in the salt air and the darkness, turning so that I am looking out at the sea and the moonlit sky, so that I can pretend I am alone, as I prefer to be. I do not need to watch the men to see if they approach; when they come, I know.

I turn around to see the two men I have already decided to kill. I frown; it is too early. If I begin now, Maria and I will die in the middle of the Atlantic. We do not know how to sail. And even if I kill only these two, the rest of the crew will not take us back to land; they will throw us overboard once they know what we can do.

The men grin at each other as they approach. "Hello, lady," one of them says, his rotten teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Fine evening, innit?"

The other one laughs as though his friend has just made a hilarious joke. My mind is working fast, trying to figure out how to send them away without harming them. Too soon, too soon, too soon.

"We were aiming to come down and pay you and yer lovely sister a visit," says the laughing one. "But here you are come to visit us. Ent you?"

I raised an eyebrow, keeping the rest of my face neutral. "I find the fresh air helps to calm my stomach. Did you also get sick in your first days on board a ship?"

The question seems to flummox them, as though they can't understand why I'm not retreating in terror. They frown, then the first one says, "A man has a stronger stomach than that. Don't we, Red?"

The other one nods. "We ent delicate flowers, eh?" The two laugh then, and I keep my face still, though I want to roll my eyes at them.

"Well, then, I suppose you won't have any advice for me." I take a step towards them, and push in between them towards the hole in the deck that leads down below as they stare at me in surprise. "I'll just retire for the evening, I think."

They recover their wits, such as they are, and I fear they might catch up to me before I make it to my locking door, but the Captain is coming up the ladder just as I reach it, and they skulk off in another direction. So, they are afraid of him, then – just hoping to avoid his notice. I will still kill them, but it is useful information.

***